index


Message-ID: <55894asstr$1179634204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Vivian Darkbloom <vdkblm-OBLITERATE-SPAM!@yahoo.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7Bit
User-Agent: KNode/0.9.0
Subject: {ASSM} Journey to Sxtlan - Synapse 2 (purple, ped)
Lines: 416
Date: Sun, 20 May 2007 00:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


  WARNING !! XXX DANGER XXX !! HAZARD !! XXX WARNING !!

  This document is intended for the perusal of mature
  readers ONLY.  Those lacking in literary competence may
  find themselves in the disturbing situation of needing to
  reach for a dictionary, or (heaven forbid) a thesaurus.
  If you do not know what a thesaurus is, please inquire of
  your local neighborhood girl scout.

  To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML,
  please visit our website at:
 
    http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/vivian/www

  Now offering over 170,000 words of pure prurience!

  --------------------------------------------------------


 

                            Journey to Sxtlan

                          by Vivian Darkbloom

                               Synapse 2

   As I watched in the glacier blue moonlight beneath sleeping giant
   trees towering dark and heavy in frozen stillness above me, the
   swirling tracers lingering in the atmosphere now thick with
   floating globular cactus-pixels in shades of Jimi Hendrix solos,
   though bereft as I was of the portable cassette player, I
   remembered at once my secret urgent mission, that which had been
   wrested from me the recent diagonal events, an obvious ploy by
   the Pope and the President, who had joined together to prevent me
   from tapping into the limitless voltage of cosmic power hidden in
   the space between the electrons, thus discovering the innermost
   secret leading to complete dominion over the entire universe.

   From the corner of my eye, I saw what appeared to be a
   hummingbird, hovering nearby. When I looked in its direction, it
   cocked its head curiously, and spun off after a few seconds.

   It was obvious that the CIA had unleashed the small child in a
   diagonal path so similar to the one taken only a day previously
   by the two girls, only theirs had traversed the grassy quad
   between dorms, whereas I now knelt studying the tilework of a
   parallel quad between theatre and auditorium, where here the
   grassy midsection had been replaced with the mysterious sinister
   tilework. The breeze felt unusually cold against my skin, raising
   the spectre of a nagging thought that I could not place, of
   something important I might have forgotten, but I pushed away the
   temptation to consider it, knowing it was merely distraction from
   my urgent mission.

   I thought of nipples crushed against fabric, knowing instantly
   that the idea was merely a burnt red herring, inserted into my
   mind by the hidden imperceptible electrodes that the government
   had implanted via the inescapable Federal 1040 income tax form,
   and that my only hope of concealment was to cling furiously to
   the secret mission: to decipher the meanings of the black and
   white tilework beneath my feet. It was obviously the work of an
   ancient, highly advanced civilization. I easily deduced that the
   masonry had been executed by means of spaceships flown in from
   nearby starsystem, under the guidance of an ancient Aztec
   priestess, whose strange sexual habits had revealed to her the
   crucial secret which I must discover by morning, or the world
   might erode into the abyss of eternal non-being. The cool breeze
   again raised the nagging thought of something indistinct that
   might be important somehow, but again I pushed it away knowing it
   would only slow down my progress in accomplishing the salvation
   of the world.

   Gently, I stroked the stonework of the tiles, only to discover
   that, in my good fortune, the mescaline had revealed its inner
   cottony layer of softness, and each one lifted up slightly to
   meet my finger as I touched it, thus allowing me to instantly
   glean the mechanism by which the tiles would each rise up and
   drift around, shifting position nightly to reflect the attunement
   with the stars.

   My mind was clear, quick, calm and sharp, functioning with
   greater efficiency than ever I had experienced before. Genius
   sparkled within my synapses. With effortless precision, I
   recalled the details of the advanced encryption class I had spent
   the afternoon partaking of, just a few hours ago. The blacks and
   whites of the tiles corresponded clearly with the modulo-two
   polynomials we had been factoring, and instantly the million
   possibilities twenty one tiles immediately before me, three rows
   of seven, a language in powers of two of megaplexes of
   megalomanic megopolii.

   The Feistel network obviously implicated in the asymmetrical keys
   implied in the keystones of the archway surrounding the seven
   threes, primely factored as they were into three sevens, jumped
   to the center of my attention. This realization changed
   everything. Clearly now, the NSA had joined in with the priests
   and the president in order to foil my urgent mission. This
   evidence could not be ignored. Not only were the tiles written in
   the strange but beautiful script of the ancient civilisation of a
   hundred and eight lightyears distant, but now they had been
   encrypted as well.

   That explained everything!

   I exhaled a sigh of perseverance, now understanding the
   exactitude of why the meaning and significance in the tiles had
   waxed so elusive, and having just realized by how many orders of
   magnitude had my task incremented. Yet now was my task all the
   more pressing, to liberate the soul of the Aztec Queen, whose
   released power would rapidly unleash the sexual mysteries lurking
   beneath the surfaces of all objects.

   A deep color-laden shadow crossed over the tiles as I was
   examining them. I could feel its incursion scraping over my skin
   like a chisel.

   I looked up to see the little blonde girl of whom I had just
   spoken, gazing down curiously to see what I was studying. It had
   indeed been the shadow of her head, so sweetly adorned with long
   straight silken locks.

   Instantly, my mind went blank. Something in her innocent presence
   brought all mental dialog to a sudden halt.

   "Hi," she said. "What are you doing?"

   I exhaled in exasperation. To be burdened with explaining such
   urgent complexities to a mere child. "It's very important," I
   said.

   "Oh," she replied, apparently satisfied with my clever decoy of a
   response.

   I looked down once more, resuming my study of the Feistel network
   embedded in the modulo-two arithmetic implicated by the complex
   alien masonry. I could not be fettered by pointless distraction
   at a time like this.

   "How come you haven't got any clothes on?" she asked simply.

   The thought that had been nagging so annoyingly now pushed its
   way into my mind, with the sharp coolness of the breeze pricking
   up the goosebumps on my skin. Looking down at my hands and feet,
   I observed that I was indeed completely naked.

   Such nefarious trickery! The governmental agencies had obviously
   conspired to lay yet another obstacle before my path, yet
   dauntless I must persevere. Feeling the sharpness of my
   phenomenal concentration starting to slip, yet only slightly, I
   realized I had to think, and quickly! Reaching down to where I
   had set it on the ground, I resumed once again the indica-and-
   hashish joint, deftly sparking a match and inhaling the
   clarifying vapors. Now, what had transpired, to rob me of my
   superficial outer garb? I had to come up with a plan! My memory
   drew forth only confusion and darkness.

   I looked up to see the clear wideset eyes of the girl fastened to
   me, wide eyes beneath blonde bangs, a faint smile playing across
   her face like a careless game of hopscotch.

   I felt something stirring within me.

   "Is that your wee-wee maker?" she asked, pointing.

   I looked down. "I suppose it is," I said.

   "How did it get so big?" she asked.

   My mind drew a blank once again. How did children come up with
   such infernal questionings? Particularly at such a time, when the
   ancient Aztec energies had released themselves sufficiently to
   commence an awkward stiffening in my sexual organs. So many
   urgencies, now this! I must not let an innocent child witness
   such a thing. Perhaps she had been possessed by the soul of the
   Maya Queen! The Queen of illusions!

   Standing up, I knew I had to get away, to conceal my sexual
   desire from one so pure. An emergency state of affairs. Yet for
   some reason, I could not formulate a plan. Knowing I desperately
   needed to clear my mind in order to resume normal mental
   operation, I took another deep pull from the indica and hashish
   joint. It sparked angrily, and thick smoke rose from the end. One
   of the chunks of hashish must have caught fire.

   "It's going all pointy and uplike," she said. "Could I touch it?"

   It was then that I knew that the girl must have concealed in her
   being, the keys to the cipher. The trickery of the entombed
   queen, laughing with ancient wisdom beneath the mysterious
   tilework! Handing off the secret to such an unlikely decoy. Yes
   indeed, would we foil the governmental-networked effort of evil
   spies to derail the salvation of the universe!

   Before I could answer, the girl had reached out and run her
   finger delicately up the arching of the stiffening curve now
   growing before me, sending shivers of desire twitching through my
   pelvis, down my thighs. Her face appeared larger than life,
   hovering near my midsection, her moist lips only inches away from
   the tip of my desire.

   "Hey!" I said.

   She let out a twisted giggle, hunching over oddly with the pull
   of the laughter. The sound of her taunting mirth grabbed
   something deep inside of me and drew me close. Like a long lash,
   whipping out to wrap around the base of my spine, and magnetize
   the radiating, whirling wheels of my lower chakras, activating
   the serpentine kundalini of my tantric sexual transcendence.

   My secret mission notwithstanding, I could not let such an
   affront to my dignity persist. She walked backwards, in sandals,
   still giggling, waiting for me to come after her, taunting me
   with her eyes. Her thin legs were clad in long white shorts that
   ended above her slender knees, her flat narrow chest concealed by
   the mere thin cloth of a striped T-shirt.

   As I stood there, watching her slowly getting away from me, the
   realization dawned. I must release the keys that she held within
   her, or I would never unravel the cipher of the black and white
   tiles! I bolted towards her, which led to an downpour of
   giggling, as she turned away and started to run in earnest. Man,
   was she fast. I followed her into the darkness of woods, lit only
   by dappled moonlight. The sod was spongy and soft beneath my
   feet.

   I saw her flash between the trees, caught momentarily in a
   moonbeam, the light of the lunar queen whose night it was to rule
   the starry sky, whose mantle tumbled down in rays that left
   patches of icy-blue white here and there on all sides beneath the
   trees.

   We erupted from the forest into a grassy clearing, and she
   tumbled down onto the lawn. I followed, and soon we were
   wrestling, rolling across the grass. Something was different: I
   noticed that she had lost her shirt. For a moment, the cloth of
   her shorts pressed fleshy warmth against my erection. Then, up
   she had sprung once more.

   "Ok, now you're it. Now I have to chase you," she declared.
   "Better get away, or I'll tickle!" Her fingers stroked
   irritatingly against the sole of my right foot.

   Already out of breath, I stood up quickly. How could I have left
   the mosaic? The secret tiles would shift, and all of my labor
   would be in vain! Desperately, I sprang forward, retreating back
   down the path on which we had come, or so I thought. I had to
   come up with a plan, and quickly! Was the girl truly the holder
   of the asymmetrical key? Or had some other player intercepted the
   Queen's command, and perverted the girl's intent into some
   nefarious form, for dashing to pieces my quest to save the world
   from its immanent destruction?!

   I heard her giggling behind me. Stumbling through the darkness,
   my feet encountered the painful contours of rocks and tree-roots.
   I had to slow my pace, picking my way through to the smooth path,
   but when the flood of moonlight appeared before me, there was no
   tilework. I had become hopelessly lost! Only grassy meadow,
   sloping down to a sandy beachfront beside a still lake.

   As I stumbled out onto the grass, she leaped up on my back,
   piggyback style, legs wrapped around my waist, her soft folds
   pressed against the small of my back. From the absence of fabric,
   I gathered that she had now lost her cute little shorts, though
   she was still wearing sandals, which explained her ability to
   traverse so effortlessly the roots and rocks strewn across the
   dark forest earth.

   She giggled, out of breath, as I was. Her weight threw me off
   balance, and I sunk to my knees in the grass. I could not lie
   face-down in the grass, on account of the forward protrusion
   erected by my lower chakras, so I fell back somehow on my back.
   She sat heavily on my chest, now completely naked, aside from her
   sandals.

   She reached out, smiling, and pinched both of my earlobes
   simultaneously. Her labia pressed warmly, moistly against my
   belly button, elbows on the grassy earth, the warmth of her
   breath brushed my lips, as she stared down at my open mouth with
   her large wideset eyes.

   A surge of compassion poured through me. Whether or not her
   missive was genuinely from the Queen, I felt an intense love for
   this tiny messenger of the universal truth. Softly, I reached up
   and kissed her lips with mine. The energy from her giggles
   crumbled into shivering sensuality as she kissed me back. We
   writhed together in tantalizing tension, pressing and pulling
   with mindless, instinctive longing. I placed my hands on her soft
   buttocks, gently kneading the delicate pliability of her pale
   flesh.

   After we had been kissing for a while, she sat up abruptly,
   buttocks pressing into my chest, smiling widely.

   She stood up. "I gotta wee-wee," she pronounced, then started to
   giggle as she stood over me, spreading her legs as if joking that
   she would release herself onto me. My erection vibrated at the
   thought. Of course! The key that was within her! Now the cipher
   would be revealed!

   I nodded to her. "Yes," I whispered, thrusting my pelvis upward
   slightly.

   At first she looked as if she didn't believe me, but then she
   gave a look of particular concentration, and soon I felt the wet
   warmth of her inner liquid as it arced forth from her sweet fold,
   releasing onto my quivering arrow. The pungent odor at once
   revulsed and attracted me, knowing that I was sharing one of her
   darkest, most intimate secrets. When the spattering ceased, she
   sat smiling, down once more upon me, and we kissed again, mouths
   speaking in wordless tongues of intimacy, bodies writhing
   together soaked in the dirty secret of her bodily fluids.

   "Swim?" I asked, when our lips once more had parted. She nodded
   almost imperceptibly. It was the gesture of subtle command, a
   Queen's charge of authority. "Your wee-wee maker could go inside
   of mine."

   How would I ever shield her innocent purity from the ravages of
   rank corruption?

   We both got up, and with near simultaneity, both dove into the
   chilly, pure refreshing water of the lake. We laughed and tumbled
   for awhile, but it was too early in the season for the water to
   be warm enough to stay in for long. As we got out, we were both
   shivering. My stiffness had been replaced with flacidity. It
   occurred to me that it would be actually possible to die out
   here, to perish of exposure or starvation. Clearly, I had no idea
   where I was. The lonely barrenness of the woods impinged like a
   steel marlinspike.

   I wasn't ready to die: I still had to pass my chemistry exam! I
   was fairly certain that death would cause me to fail the class,
   which somehow wasn't quite fair. At least couldn't I get partial
   credit? I know they make you pay taxes after you've died, so by
   the same logic wouldn't it make sense to let me pass the class?
   Maybe I could get a note from the dean.

   It was then that I saw something I barely believed, a yellow
   flickering through the woods. I was trying to remember where the
   lake was, on our campus map. In fact, I didn't recall ever having
   seen it.

   Did someone have a campfire? Hopefully not some transient bum.
   The last thing I needed, to interfere with my urgent mission to
   save the entire civilized world as we know it, was to encounter
   some drug-crazed freak!

   Wordlessly, we both walked towards the faint light, both drawn by
   the promise of warmth.

   When we got there, we found that it was indeed a campfire,
   attended by an Indian woman. She wore draped around her the
   traditional garb of the Native Americans. Her faint smile was
   sympathetic. It was as though she had been expecting us. She
   looked up and opened her hand in a gesture of welcome. Her other
   hand was stirring some odd mixture of herbs infused in water over
   the fire. Before the flickering flames, a blanket was laid out
   with pillows, a place for each of us.

   We took her wordless offer of warmth and sat down. Did she even
   speak English? Did she speak at all? The flames were comforting
   in their calid benediction of thermal increase.

   The old woman put down the spoon and sat calmly beside us,
   completing our half-circle of three before the altar of warmth. I
   way "old," as she had the air of ancient wisdom about her, but
   when I studied her face, her skin and features were smooth and
   silky, of timeless youth. Even her wrinkles and grey hair seemed
   paradoxically youthful in some manner. Her hair was wrapped in
   what seemed to be a turquoise-colored scarf, though the colors
   were indistinct in the moonlight and firelight.

   "You are making good progress," she said. "The coyote has been
   powerful in your mind, but still you have managed to find your
   spirit guide," she gestured at the girl, "and bring her
   incarnation into the realm of a physical partner. And you have
   opened a door into one of the lesser realms beyond. Now all that
   remains is to discover the passageway into the greater heavenly
   realms of Love."

   "But how --" I began. She held up her hand, gesturing for
   silence.

   "You must drink this potion, which will strengthen your seeing.
   For you are of the pale race, so you are initially incapable of
   higher seeing without the medicinal herbs. If you persevere in
   your studies, you may overcome your limitation, but for now, this
   potion will enable you to see the energy threads which connect
   all things, as well as the passageways between worlds, which open
   in the moments between time and eternity.

   "You must now reach your climax with your spirit guide in the
   center of the mosaic, over the tomb of the Incan Princess, and
   she will release you into the world of your belonging. This is
   your sacred task. Your spirit guide will lead you back into your
   world to find it. But first, you should rest a while."

   "But what about the NSA encryption scrambling the binary
   polynomial equation dictating the layout of the tilework?" I
   demanded. She looked scoldingly at me, as if I had said something
   sounding completely insane. I fell silent, gazing into the
   dancing spirit of the laughing flames. The girl reached over and
   took my hand, leaning against me. Then she squirmed her way into
   my lap.

  _______________________________________________________


  For more stories, please visit our site:
    http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/vivian/www



  

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+